A Battle Once Lost
by Nilly's Issue
Summary: Annabeth went with Luke after the Battle of the Labyrinth. A few months later, she's given one order: Kill Percy Jackson. Can she do it?


**Summary: **Annabeth went with Luke after the Battle of the Labyrinth. A few months later, she's given one order: Kill Percy Jackson. Can she do it?

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><p><em>"There's no need to talk about it, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does." <em>

_- Bernhard Schlink_

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><p><strong> A Battle Once Lost: Part One<strong>

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><p>I am not an evil person. I didn't plan on betraying everyone I love to fight with Luke. It was never in my plans, and it was never my dream. But you don't understand. You have no idea what I was put through, and my situation. You don't understand the loss, the hurt, the pure <em>anger<em> I felt at everyone around me. The gods of Olympus themselves were at the pinnacle of my hatred. My mother, if that woman, _thing_, can even call herself that. She had sex with an innocent human and dropped a baby on his doorstep and up and left. Talk about responsible parenting. No, _she _never cared about me.

Camp Half-Blood was another story, a different one, lighter, yet with more dark spots. There I met people; _friends_ I suppose you could call them. When I left my father and joined Luke and Thalia to tumble across American, chased by Hade's worst monsters, I ended up there. And they took me in. Thalia turned into a pine tree, yet another ally disappeared. But Luke didn't leave, not then anyway.

And I grew to like it there, maybe even love it. Chiron brought me under his wing. He spoke in long-winded, philosophical sentences, filled with pretty words and optimistic hopefulness. And I completely fell for it. I believed that my chance was coming; I had to wait for it. Annabeth Chase had to _wait_ for someone else to come by and save her. And I believed that. I can't fathom how I believed that.

Because I don't need anyone. And Luke taught me that. When he "kidnapped" me, I was enlightened. I say kidnapped lightly. I was only fourteen at the time, too young and too naïve to realize what a pawn I truly was. It was after the Labyrinth mess, that horrible battle that we very nearly lost. Luke came to my doorstep and I went with him. He made sense. Luke cared for me. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. And the entire time he was right. All demigods are are pawns of the gods. We were sent to do their dirty work while they laid around in Olympus. I was sick of being used.

And then there was Percy Jackson; the indescribable anomaly, the variable that refused to pick one definite answer. He was strange; incredibly gifted, yet completely unaware of his remarkable prowess. Percy was too innocent to be that good in battle. He was gentle, and angry, and reckless, and scared; but he easily shoved it all away and gave me a brilliant smile when I silently asked for one. Percy was my best friend.

I was sent to kill him. He was the hero. I was the assassin. There was nothing more than that. Percy was the target and I had the gun. It would be a good battle, but I would win in the end. He was determined and quick, but I was strong and smart.

Percy Jackson was small. I was bigger than life.

I would kill Percy, and I wouldn't feel a thing.

The operation was quite simple. Our battle brigade would ambush Camp Half-Blood at four in the morning, and take them down. We would burn the whole thing to ashes. I would burn the whole thing down. Luke—Kronos—would come to watch. When I stated that it might be a risk, he laughed in my face. It was cold, breathy, and empty; because Luke had no doubts that he would be unharmed and we would overcome. It was that sort of stone confidence that I wished I could attain. The pure power he possessed was incredible.

He was coming to watch me. This was my test: Could I stifle any remnants of my past humanity and kill a living human being? Could Annabeth Chase kill Percy Jackson, someone who had saved my life countless times without any reparation?

I think I can.

Camp Half-Blood was only our first stop. Then it was to Olympus. And that is where we would take over full control, where Luke would come back to me and then I would be in peace. I will have gotten my revenge. Revenge on the people that _chewe_d me up, _spit_ me out, and _left_ me on the side of the road to fend for myself.

It did not matter that nobody at camp did anything to me. It didn't. They were worth the sacrifice for revenge, anything was. Percy was.

I didn't care about any of them.

"Annabeth, we are prepared to march onward. Are my orders clear?" I turned around and faced Ethan. He was easy, so pathetically easy to bend under Luke's will. He bent under _my_ will, eager to please.

I turned and faced him, a slight smirk on my lips. "Yes, Ethan. Please, let the battle begin."

He bowed his head shortly. There was a hesitance in his actions.

"I will tell them to move on then." He started walking.

"Ethan." I called out. "You aren't scared, are you?"

He shifted from foot to foot and shook his heard furiously. Inside, I laughed. He was squirming at my words, because of me. Ethan seemed to forcefully calm, steeling himself against my will. "Of course not. It'll simply be weird to be back again."

I took out my knife, admiring the blade. It was fun to play games with his head. "I can relate. And I need not remind you that we both will find burning it into the ground quite…" I finished with a smile, "satisfying."

A slow grin spread on Ethan's features. "I couldn't agree more, Annabeth." He started to turn away, but then took a breath and faced me again. "May I say something? Confidential, of course."

Feeling oddly consensual, I agreed. "Sure."

"I didn't think you'd join us. I mean, with Percy and Thalia and all them."

My eyebrows twitched. "Well I did."

He scratched the back of his neck, as if he was unsure of whether he should continue. "Weren't you and that Jackson kid, like… together?"

Irritation prickled at the little brat. "We weren't together, you-." I caught myself, slowing down. "No, Ethan. Percy Jackson and I were never involved, and nor will we ever be involved." An empty laugh escaped my lips. "Besides, I'm going to eliminate his future today, aren't I?"

Intimidated eyes were amusedly wide, and he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, totally. Eliminate."

"You believe me, don't you?" I challenged.

He stepped back. "I do! I want him out of the way just as much as you do."

Somehow I doubted that. "Go, Ethan. Let's let this battle begin."

I took a deep breath.

We were winning, just as I had thought we would; I'd been the one to plan it. Of course we would win.

I do give them credit; they were quite creative, setting various buildings on fire, an assortment of creatures on their side, and arming their forces incredibly well; all of this impeding our encroachment of their camp. But it would all be vain. It was simple. We outnumbered them at least five to one. Be as creative as you want, the math couldn't be ignored.

Luke and I were sitting in the back. Watching. Waiting.

"Annabeth," Luke, Kronos, whispered her stomach, said. "Would you like to see how the battle is going?" The voice wasn't Luke's. It was darker, gravelly, sending shivers up my spine.

"O-of course."

Luke held out his hand, palm up. Slowly, I grabbed it. His fingers were ice cold, my stomach tugging painfully. It wasn't fear; it was something different. Suddenly my eyes snapped shut and pictures flickered in front of my eyelids. It was like watching a motion picture movie in my head.

The camera swerved, an Aphrodite girl was struck down, a monster lit Hermes's cabin on fire, and Chiron was fighting with his fellow centaurs, impressively taking down the Minotaur. Then the image flickered and was replaced by the strawberry field. And there, standing on the grass, blood on his ripped T-shirt, was the famed Percy Jackson. I hoped that Luke didn't feel the miniscule tightening of my hand. He hadn't changed much. His battle skills had improved. He swung with deadly accuracy, monsters disappearing in dust around him. He was careful not to severely harm anybody human, because Percy Jackson was not a killer.

He was good; I gave him that. But I was better.

_"There is your enemy, are you prepared to take him down, child?"_

I shook my head, now free from the vision. "Yes. I'm ready. I'm ready."

"Good." He said. "It's almost time. You've come very far. And Luke and I are proud of you. I am proud of you."

It was when he said things like that that freaked me out. Because I was listening to Luke not Kronos. Luke. Not Kronos. Annabeth Chase would not be under the will of Kronos. Annabeth was here by her own free will. I met eyes with Luke (Kronos) and watched the eerily bright gold flicker. Blue, filled its place. Bright, painfully familiar blue, scared and shaking in their sockets, kicking her in the stomach; the blue eyes looked at me with almost palpable fear before they were replaced with gold once more. Luke_Kronos_ dipped his head, shaking off the flash with a groan. He muttered something unintelligible and snarled.

"Annabeth!" he yelled. "Go take the brat down. Kill him."

My eyes went wide. "Are you going to watch?"

"Yes!" he growled. "Of course I will. Go. Now!"

Startled, I leaped out of my chair and raced to the fields. It was my time. My reckoning. I could prove to Luke that I am worthy to be with him, and to fight along his side. Old friends, past enemies, and familiar buildings streamed by my peripheral vision as I ran to go fight Percy. I was running to go fight my old best friend.

As soon as I was within twenty feet of him, my men and monsters alike, cleared out, stopping their assault on Percy. The grass was torched in spots, black, dead. I focused on that.

Percy seemed to be in shock. He lowered his sword, breathing harshly and staring at me in awe. He never was good at hiding his feelings. He looked worse than before. His green T-shirt was ripped and torn, scratches scattered along his torso. A long, vicious gash was leaking blood from his stomach; he was weak.

"Annabeth," he breathed. Percy blinked rapidly, and my stomach lurched painfully at the sight of incredibly green eyes.

I steeled myself, determinedly looking at his floppy black hair instead of his eyes. "Hi, Percy. It's really been too long." I snarled.

He took a shaky breath and dug the point of his sword into the ground, leaning heavily on it. "What happened to you?" he questioned, his voice echoing concern.

Smiling coldly, I whispered, "Everything."

I could see the horror in his eyes, the disbelief. I had changed. A lot. As soon as I was under Luke's forces, Kronos's strength started to change me. I grew, now, I was five-nine, and stronger than I'd ever been before. I was plenty taller than my opponent. Percy was still a scrawny, teenaged boy, slender and gangly, whereas I was the powerful one.

He grimaced and shifted, keeping most of his weight on his left leg, which meant his right was probably sprained, or wounded. "I'm gonna guess Kronos sent you here to kill me."

I pulled out my blade. "You'd be making the right assumption then, Seaweed Brain."

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

I laughed, it sounded cold. "Why shouldn't I?" I challenged, a touch of insanity bubbling underneath my words. What was happening?

"Because only Annabeth can call me that. And you are most definitely _not_ Annabeth."

My stomach twisting painfully, I lunged forward, swinging my knife at Percy, but he was quick, and blocked my blow. Growling with disdain, I swung again and went for his sword arm, and he barely hopped out of the way.

"Trust me, I'm Annabeth."

He parried another blow. "Ah, no." he laughed breathily. "Annabeth doesn't talk like that."

Percy was refusing to swing at me. He was on the defensive. He didn't want to hurt me. My stomach pulled again. I swung dangerously close to his head, but he dove to the right, avoiding me. We were dancing around each other. It was a dangerous game, one that I was determined to win, and one that he didn't want to play. We weaved in and out. Or rather, I kept lunging towards him, and he kept stepping back. He was getting tired. He already was tired. I was just getting started. I could do this.

"You don't want to kill me, Annabeth!" he yelled, dodging me once more.

Launching myself forward, I reached out and barely grazed his arm, enough to cut through his T-shirt and send blood dripping down his arm. He stumbled backwards from me, cringing in pain. "Although," he winced. "You do seem interested in cutting me."

"Wise-cracking to the end, don't you, Percy?"

He shrugged and danced backwards from my blade. "Some people call it a coping mechanism. I just think I have a great sense of humor."

Fake bravado. I could see right through it. In his eyes, he was scared. He was bleeding, weak, and wounded. He was afraid of me. I was going to win. It was only the final move I had to make.

I could do it.

Percy finally reacted, and when I swung my knife out, he undercut his sword, effectively trapping my blade against his chest. He leaned forward, his breath hot on my face. "You don't even realize what he did to you." I pushed him back.

"He did everything for me."

His face twisted with disbelief as he hopped away from me on one leg. "You really think that?"

I didn't answer. Running forward, I feinted up and then swooped down, swiping the gash on his stomach. Percy groaned and stumbled backwards, his face draining of blood. I took advantage of his weakness and did what I'd been taught to do a long time ago. I pushed him. As he lost his balance, pain exploded in my thigh and I looked down. He'd swiped me.

Surprised, I fell backwards onto my butt and pressed my hand to the wound. I grimaced when I pulled it back red. Percy was sprawled on his back, trying to apply pressure to the gash.

The gash that I had exacerbated.

I had wounded him.

My stomach pulled harder than it had ever before and I groaned and crumpled forwards. What was happening to me? Growling, I crawled to my feet and lunged towards Percy again. He rolled away from me and stood up.

"You can't see it? He took away your feelings! You can't feel anything! That's why you're doing all of this! You're a certified robot!" Percy argued.

"Shut up." I said, running into the fight again.

His sword arm was getting heavy; it was reflected in his swings. He was tired. I was going to win.

"You don't want to kill me, Annabeth. You're in there. Fight it. All your feelings? They're bubbling up, and you know it. I can see it in your eyes. Now fight it. Be that annoying know-it-all that I met three years ago. You don't want to kill me. I know you."

My stomach pulled again. He was lying.

"I said, SHUT UP!" I screamed.

Percy stepped backwards, almost frightened by my scream. And then he tripped; the ultimate Percy move. Rushing forwards, I tackled him. With my knees on either side of his hips, I slammed his sword arm against the ground, and he involuntarily let go of it in pain.

"Wow," he said, gasping for air. "You really do mean business."

My stomach felt like it was getting ripped from my insides. He made direct eye contact with me, green burning into my skull.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. He had a diagonal cut on his cheek, and little lines of blood were flowing down onto his neck.

I was breathing very hard. "Revenge. I got sick of being used. Luke showed me a way out."

"No," he corrected. "Kronos showed you a way out. And it was a crappy way out if you ask me. You're still being used. How can you not realize that?" he begged. Percy never begged. He did a lot of things, but he didn't beg. My stomach tightened.

"You're just a pawn, Percy. How come you can't realize that?"

He laughed bleakly, but then coughed, his features screwing up in pain. "You think I don't realize that? Of course I can tell I'm being used. But I know what I'm being used for. The gods aren't interested in obliterating the entire planet. They want peace. And sure, they're shallow and stupid, sometimes. But I see their point." He stared her in the eye. "You don't want anybody to die, Annabeth. You're fighting it right now. This isn't about revenge. You're just hurt."

"Stop."

My stomach jerked again.

"I don't hurt. I want revenge. I'm not hurt." I repeated, closing my eyes to escape his. They lingered behind my lids. Green. Deep, anguished, green.

I picked up my blade, letting go of his left hand. My knife hovered over his heart. "I have to do this, Percy." His eyes. Green. Pain. Hurt. Pure agony in my stomach.

I plunged the knife down.

"Sorry, Annabeth!" Percy shouted. He wrenched his hand from my grip and slapped the blade away, and punched me in the face. Pain exploded from my jaw and I barely processed Percy sitting up and shoving me off of him and rolling to his side.

We both stumbled to our feet. I shook off the daze in my head and jumped towards him again. He caught my knife in its arc, creating an X with our weapons, and pulling me closer to him. "Fight it." He growled. His voice had gotten lower since we last talked. "You know, it's a shame you went dark side. You were my best friend. Heck, you still are."

My stomach was hurting more than ever.

"I have to kill you." I whispered.

He shook his head slowly. "No, you don't, Annabeth."

I pulled out of the stance and rushed him again. He was determined to harm me as little as possible. My stomach felt like it was ripping in half. I doubled over, pushing my hands against it.

"Annabeth, what's going on?" Percy questioned, stepping towards me.

"Percy?" I straightened, blinking.

He stepped closer. "Annabeth is that you in there?"

"I-I-." Percy took another step, closer in front of me. "I-I don't-. I can't-." I said.

"Annabeth?" he yelled, grabbing my arms.

I shoved the knife into his stomach.

I distantly heard people screaming his name, but it didn't register. Percy was staring down in shock at his stomach. His sword clattered on the ground, and he pressed a hand to his skin and then pulled it away. His shaking fingers were soaked with red. Blood. Percy's blood. My knife. I couldn't hear anything. Percy's face was almost white, he was so pale. His green eyes fluttered in his head and he listed sideways. It was my first reaction to catch him. It was instinct. Annabeth caught her friends when they were falling. I jumped forward and wrapped my arms around him, his head resting on my shoulder. He had no strength to hold himself up. Carefully, I dropped to my knees with him, and then lowered him to the ground, releasing my hold on him.

He didn't move.

My stomach. Something inside me snapped. Some barrier, some cage that had been built inside me exploded. Pain erupted from me and I screamed, clutching my stomach in pure agony, and squeezing my eyes shut.

Pain, anger, grief, sadness, happiness, relief, and guilt rushed to my head. Everything exploded into vivid colors of feelings. I opened my eyes.

Blood. My knife. Percy.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I whispered frantically. "Percy, Percy, please." I leaned over him, "Hey, hey, open your eyes. Percy, hey, gods, Percy." My voice broke. "Percy, Percy, please open your eyes." I pressed my hand to his shoulder, shaking it slightly. "Percy! Wake up! I'm sorry, wake up!" Tears dripped down my face. "Percy, gods, your eyes. Open your eyes!"

Percy Jackson, the twitchiest person to walk the planet, was absolutely still. He looked like an exhausted hero, taking a nap amidst the destruction of a war, a picture of calm within the chaos.

"Percy, please," I whimpered. "You can't do this."

A hollow sob fell from my lips. There was a burning sensation in my eyes that stung white hot.

Percy flinched. His eyes scrunched together in pain.

A weak groan came from below me. Hope flickered. Green. Beautiful, rushing, green. He blinked slowly, seeming to take in my presence. "Y-you stabbed me." he stuttered quietly, choking on his words.

I laughed softly, tears catching on my lips. "I noticed." I said, my voice wavering. He had a bleeding scratch on his face, a purple bruise blossoming on his jaw, and his hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

I'd never seen anything better.

Percy coughed, and his lips were coated with red. "I-I think that was blood," he whispered.

"Yeah, it is." I stuttered. My fingers were shaking at I brought them up to wipe away the red dots on his chin.

Percy was shivering so much. It wasn't even cold out. My hands fluttered where the hilt of my knife stood out, eerily still, moving up and down with Percy's shallow breaths. A circle of red surrounded it. I was the one who put it there. It was me. It was all me. I was the one who tricked him, who hurt him, who shoved Luke's knife into his body. I was the one watching him bleed out on the ground, because I was the one that was killing Percy Jackson.

"So," he started, and then stopped, gasping for air. "Are you going to save my life, or what?" he said, a wayward smile quirking on his lips.

Save his life—I was the one who put him there!

I silently gaped at him, overwhelmed. Percy was losing his hold on the sarcastic, foolish bravery he constantly forced outward; he was struggling to stay awake. "Annabeth?" he whispered. He coughed weakly, lurching to his left and spitting out blood, but pausing because it pulled on the knife. He relaxed back into the ground, his eyelids drifting shut. "I don't think I have a lot of time left, no rush, though."

My heart was pounding against my ribs. Panic bubbled in my throat. What was I supposed to do? He was dying! Percy was bleeding, and weak, and pale, and I couldn't help him. We were sitting in the middle of a war, a battle; who was I supposed to ask for help? They probably all wanted to kill me. Percy Jackson couldn't die. Not him. He was the hero. He was the one who deserved the happy ending. He was supposed to be able to grow up, and get married and have two and half kids, not this.

Not me.

"Annabeth?"

I looked down at the weak voice that said the words. There was a slight sheen of a cold sweat on Percy's forehead, gluing his hair to his skin. His skin was unnaturally pale, bleached, making the blood stand out harshly on his face. On instinct, some pull, I cupped his jaw with my fingers, trying to ignore the full on shiver rocking its way through his form.

"'M not gonna blame you, 'kay?"

His eyes were so damn green.

"Look at you," my voice shook, and I didn't even bother to hide it. "Percy Jackson, actually making a valiant speech for once in his life." My hands found their way into his sweaty hair. "Never thought I'd see the day."

A violent tremor made him cry out in pain and I couldn't do anything but stare down at him in a dull horror. Percy whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut, and then hoarsely coughed. It sounded hollow. He took a ragged breath, struggling for air and composure. I didn't think he was going to get it back again. Not after this. My left hand fluttered helplessly over the blood that was falling from his stomach.

With every beat of his heart more dripped onto the ground. I heard the soft flapping of wings, but ignored it. It resembled Percy's heartbeat. Fluttering. Failing. Losing.

Fading.

"Percy." I sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My throat was closing. "Percy, I'm sorry. Gods, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. You can't die. You can't. You aren't supposed to. Percy—."

There was no answer.

The wings were fluttering again.

A light breeze brushed my cheek and managed to move a dry strand of Percy's hair.

"Percy!"

Nothing.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I screamed. I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, rattling him like he should've when I made that stupid choice. When I wanted to destroy everything. "You can't do this! Percy, stop! Breathe!" My voice sounded hoarse. I was screaming now. "Percy!" My fingers got a death grip on his shoulders and I shook him harder, violently. "You idiot! Breathe! Now! Breathe right now! Percy, listen to me!"

I was wailing now.

"Breathe!" I screamed.

Annabeth Chase deflated like a popped balloon.

"No!" I wrapped my arms around myself, as if, somehow, I get lock it all in, stop from falling apart. Why wasn't it working? This was the solution. It was supposed to work. If I fixed the problem that it would go away. It would stop. Why wouldn't it stop? "_Percy_," I keened. My fingers had bruised my arms because my grip was so hard.

I screamed. Long and hard. I screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. It was hoarse and wobbled through the air.

It ended when my voice gave out. When all I could do anymore was whisper. My throat was aching. I think that was when I started sobbing.

"Stop it!" a gruff, low voice shouted. "Stop that insufferable noise, you pathetic infant!" Large, calloused hands grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. I blinked rapidly, clearing the film of tears over my eyes. Tan skin and a black beard were hovering above me, with green eyes that were so much like… "Stop that!" he shouted again. He shook me. My teeth clicked together.

The whites of his eyes were completely bloodshot and the rims were a bright red. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking next to me. Down.

In his eyes I saw sailors getting throw overboard, I saw men drowning, clawing for air; I saw myself, trapped in an undertow and then thousands of sharks converged on my body. The anger in his eyes was omnipotent, there would be no escaping. Poseidon would not be slow, he wouldn't be precise, he wouldn't make it ironic; he would make my death the most agonizing experience ever to have been.

He blinked, and then all I saw was purpose. A goal. His green eyes were once more hard. "I'm taking my son to Apollo. Percy isn't dead yet." Fire lit in his pupils. "You are going to Kronos. Hermes will be there."

Then his pointer finger jabbed into my forehead and I swallowed by salt water. The last thing that I was Poseidon crouch beside Percy, he kissed his son's hair with a painful tenderness, and then they disappeared, too.

Suddenly the water fell away, and my knees quivered when I hit solid ground.

We were standing in the strawberry fields, or, what used to be the strawberry fields. All the plants had been burnt or blown away, because my feet were planted on black dirt and ashes. The war was raging around me. I saw friends. Thalia was bravely striking down another demigod. While she was spinning away from another sword swing, she caught a glimpse of me.

Tears were streaming down her face, her brilliant, strong, angry face. She screamed and stabbed a dracaena with a vicious uppercut. It exploded into a pile of dust at her feet. Thalia spun and started sprinting towards me. The pain on her face was so raw I didn't even move. Dirt collided with my back as she tackled me into the ground.

"You stupid whore!" she angrily sobbed. "Are you happy now? Did you get what wanted?" she screamed in my face. One of her tears hit my cheek. "How could you? How could you betray us all like that? I can't believe you!"

She punched me in the jaw.

She punched me again.

It didn't hurt. Not when I deserved it.

"Why won't you say something? I want answers! I want to know, Annabeth." She spat my name like it was dirt. "Are you happy now? Did you succeed?" her voice was dissolving into sobs. "Did you get what you wanted when you killed Percy? Your best friend? You know, he still thought you were good, right up to the war. He never stopped believing it."

She was struggling to choose between breathing and crying.

Thalia slapped me. Her hands tightened on my shirt. "Just tell me why," she begged, spitting off the tears that had landed on her lips.

My eyes watered. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't—. All of it—. I can, I can feel again. Thals, I'm sorry." I begged with her, my voice cracked at the end.

We were crying at the same time.

"I'm sorry!" Thalia said shrilly. "You think that fixes everything? Newsflash, it doesn't! Percy's still—."

"He isn't dead!" I blurted.

Thalia's face dropped and her grip lessened. "He isn't?" she asked, her voice sounded hollow.

"Poseidon took him to Apollo and then I came here. Thalia, you have to believe me;Kronos… he messed with my feelings. I couldn't—. I would never really do that. I-I'm sorry." I said, I begged.

She stared down at me, her face hard. I didn't expect the next punch. "Why'd you even join them? Why? You're a selfish brat who—."

Suddenly she was pulled off of me, and then another hand hauled me to my feet. "Enough!"

Hermes released us both and wiped off his shoulders, as if there was dirt on his clothing.

He looked at me with an expression that ranged from pity to anger. "You," he pointed towards my head, "are needed."

"For what?"

A small, vengeful smile graced his lips.

"For sending Kronos back to Tartarus."

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><p><strong>I know, mean place to end it. But I didn't expect this to be this long, so it's getting turned into a two-shot :) <strong>

**People with no life, feel free to flame me, blah-blah-blah. **

**Anyways, I'm working on the second, and final part right now. I hope you all like it. :)**

**There was an awful lot of crying going on... And I hurt Percy, or, Annabeth did. How rude. Anyways, I know, irresponsible to write something else while I still have two other stories in progress. Oh well. :)**

**Review? Yell at me? Kiss me? Hit me with a weed whacker? Whatever brings you peace!**


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